


Thaez

by Cerberusia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-23
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21972724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: Harry comes back in the early hours, smelling of smoke and burnt ozone.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Thaez

**Author's Note:**

> For marguerite_26's comment fest, prompt 'Snape/Harry, runes'.

Harry comes home in the early hours, smelling of smoke and burnt ozone - Stunners. There's been a resurgence in active Death Eater cells this last quarter, and he's called out to most incidents. As a family man, he could request that they send him out only in daylight hours - as Head Auror, he could even demand it. But he doesn't. _I need to set a good example_ , he says to you when you ask, smiling his too-old smile. A tired smile.

He always looks tired these days - except in these brief moments, when gets back from a call out and he steps through the door and bends down to take off his boots with a small, private smile on his face which somehow manages to lighten and soften his whole face and he looks again like the man you married.

Then he turns to you, sat at the kitchen table with your lukewarm tea, and makes an exaggerated weary grimace. _You'd think they'd get bored_ , he says, the same joke he's made at least eight times before. You smile anyway, because every family has its rituals, and this is yours. _At least I can count on Severus to make hilariously rude comments about the whole thing to cheer me up_ , he continues, and you see that lightness around his eyes again.

You nod, keep smiling. He steps around the kitchen table to bend to kiss your temple, says _Gin_ like he always does, and you reach out to rest your hand on his bare hip underneath his jumper - the attacks always take place in Muggle areas, and Harry doesn't like wearing robes in a fight anyway. Beneath your fingers, you feel tiny scratches. From the ground, from the wall, from a lucky curse - but you know. You know.

Gently, innocuously, you stroke his hip, feeling the muscle, the pattern. _Thurisaz. Eihwaz. Eolh_. Same as always: _keep him safe_. Marks made by large hands, strong hands, deft hands accustomed to holding a knife to cut a beetle, a bond of trust, a marriage. You visualise them, sallow and long-fingered, at rest where yours now lie.

_Keep him safe._ Even the sharpest knives become blunt. You sip your tea, hope your eyes tell the right story, and say nothing.


End file.
